3 Long Flood Takes

I wanted to write one more reflective piece about the September floods that have devastated the area.  I'll return to my regular blogging schedule next month.  If you're looking for normal quick takes, see Jen or Anne.

-ONE-

Honestly, I feel as though each day I wrote about the flood could have been expanded on so much more.  The flow and perception of time has been altered in such a strange way.  Even after three weeks, it feels like yesterday and months ago simultaneously.  My recollections of the earliest days seem like one never ending day.  But one truth remains solid and certain:  Binghamton has changed.  Some people are living the lives they lived two weeks ago; others have yet to live a day with any degree of normalcy.  Some people talk about the flood as a blip of interesting news while others still struggle to make the difficult decision, "Where do we go from here?"  Will people leave behind everything, and Binghamton all together?  Will the local businesses stick around?  How are communities and the church going to handle the the long-term needs of the people effected by this tragedy?  There are so many questions to ask, and never enough time to answer them all.

-TWO-

The stories that broke my heart the most were those of people who just recovered or haven't finished recovering from the flood in 2006.  No matter how you look at it, this flood was more devastating and widespread than the first.  That begs the question, "How will our local leaders prevent and prepare the next big one?"  It's no longer acceptable for us to believe that the "500-year-flood" is something that will never happen again; to our horror, it could happen again next week.  A friend of mine who is well versed in geology told me that the odds for something like this to happen again is very much within our lifetime.  Nobody thought something like this would happen again, but no matter how much you didn't or don't want to believe that, it happened.  And it could very well happen again.  So when the next flood happens, will we be ready?  This conversation needs to happen at the smallest and largest community levels - both the village hall and the county legislature.  I have little doubt that individuals will forget what happened to them personally.  My greatest fear is that communities, as a whole, will forget, and as a result, do nothing.  And that possibility breaks my heart knowing that it will bring unnecessary damage and grief.  So if and when you are given or initiate the opportunity to serve your community, don't hesitate to get involved in the decisions being made in any community level.  If you won't, who will?

-THREE-

"Adversity does not build character, it reveals it."  That is the lesson I learned when I left high school, and these words remind me very much of the human reaction to this flood.  The amount of generosity in both resource and service has been tremendously inspiring.  Many groups, communities and organizations are still raising funds and donating all sorts of goods and services to those who need it.  Spend five minutes on any local media outlet and you'll find someone raising money to flood victims.  That's awesome.  Families and former strangers are finally working together to restore what was previously destroyed.  These acts of selfless sacrifice can only be described as a small sample of the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth.  But just as readily, you can hear how an event like this brings up the worst of our sinful nature.  Beyond the looting, and blaming, there has also been an abandonment of those in greatest need.  Those who had little now have nothing.  As some families are reuniting, others are being torn apart under the destruction, pride and grief.  Anger, stress, sense of loss are the ways we express this, and they inevitably tag along with any disaster that occurs.  Although God can and will use this trial to bring people back to Himself, many are being wronged through no fault of their own.  Please pray that every act of wrongdoing is returned with two acts of kindness and restoration in hopes that the wrongs will be forgiven and forgotten.

Flood of 2011: Day 5 and 6

Sunday, September 11, 2011

While the rest of the country was memorializing the 10th anniversary of 9/11, Binghamton was still very much grieving over the floods.  In regards to flood related activities, Andrea and I took the Sunday as a day of rest.  The church was primed to do some community service on Monday, and with grandma out-of-town, it was a much needed Sabbath.

The sermon by Rev. Matt Kennedy was also superb considering he only had three days to prepare it.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Personally, I was surprised how many local schools that had students report.  I was one of the "lucky" ones, and had the day off.  So Andrea and I joined up with some people from the church to help some parishioners in need.

The first house in the southside had minimal damage to the floors, but the basement had to be mucked out.  So we split into two teams and made pretty short work of the house.  The homeowner was very grateful for us being there and helping him clean, but you could tell that he was completely shell-shocked over the whole experience.  Shell-shocked and unnerved.  You could tell he hadn't slept well for days and the dramatics of the whole situation really got to him.  After offering him our future services as well as our prayers, we headed out to another home.

Our second destination had plenty more damage.  Conklin was one of the hardest hit areas in the 2006 flood, and this year's flood wasn't any less merciful.  We had already sent another team there earlier in the morning to start and by the time we arrived, dry wall and insulation were being removed and disposed of.  Although it was under unfortunate circumstances, it was fun and stress-relieving to swing sledgehammers around and gutting the house.  In addition to our church team that was there, family had also come to help so there was a lot of people putting all their energy in bringing the house back to normal as soon as possible.  The proverb, "many hands make light work," had never been more true.

Earlier that morning, mom called with some new developments on the house and insurance procedures.  As it turns out, the pictures act as legal documents so they gave us the green light to start rummaging and cleaning out the house.  So with mom and grandma back up from Scranton, it was time to start actually going through everything.  But things went horribly wrong that day.  Between ineffective communication and the family sin of pride, what was supposed to be a day of cleaning and restoration turned into an argument that divided and embittered family members.  The result left us all emotionally drained, mentally tired and beyond frustrated.  Furthermore, the mini-vacation in Scranton did little for grandma's state of mind.  Not only was she still very heartbroken, emotional and confrontational, but she also started pushing away those who were there to help.

After a full day of physical work and being certain that school would resume the next day, I prepared for classes and prayed that better days lie ahead.  And I will continue praying, knowing that is the only way that restoration will come back to Binghamton, as well as my family.

Flood of 2011: Day 4

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Powerless... but only in terms of electricity.  Andrea and I promised to help the Elliot's this morning.  So after some breakfast, we drove down and was surprised by the road condition.  The same road that was three feet underwater had turned into a dust bowl.  Not to sound ungrateful, because the sunlight was welcomed change of weather, but it came along so fast and strong that all the mud and water had turned into a fine particle dust that got blown around in every direction because of all the clean-up activity and passing traffic.  Though unannounced, we were greeted warmly and delighted to hear that the water had not breached the first floor of the Elliot's home; it was four inches short.  And from my observation, the blessing of having most of the house spared seemed to be a thriving source of energy and hope.

So Andrea and I were tasked of cleaning out the garage.  Apart from the moving of toys, wood, tools, wheelbarrows, and other assortment of garage items, the water left behind a large number of worms, which Katie and Elisabeth were quick to save.  In two short hours, the garage was emptied and ready, along with it's contents, to be cleaned.  Of course, it couldn't be cleaned that day because of the restrictions water, but when it was ready, so would the Elliot's.

The trip over to the southside was not as urgent, or as difficult as it was before.  In fact, the roads and surrounding area were much more lively.  Stores and restaurants opened, people were walking the streets and cleaning was widespread.  Andrea and I met up with grandma at the church, and it was time to visit the house again.  By this time, grandma had talked to the insurance people and they gave her one piece of advice - take lots of pictures.  So 127 pictures later, we left the house.  Thank God for digital photography.    (Eventually, I will post pictures.  I'm just not ready at this point to do so.)

Visiting the house for what was probably her fifth or sixth time in three days, grandma wasn't feeling well.  In fact, her speech and attitude started getting downright rotten and confrontational.  It wasn't hard to see why; she was at her emotional and mental limits.  A few phone calls later, my mom was on her way from Scranton to bring grandma to her house for two days.  In a few hours, mom would be taking grandma to a real bed and a nice hot shower - something she had been longing for awhile.

Speaking of showers, Andrea and I got our first shower since Wednesday on this day as well.  With a strict water conservation at our home in Johnson City, and the offer to take a shower at the Kennedy's in Binghamton, it was time to wash up.  All along we had been washing our hands and faces in our (cold) bathtub water, but getting a hot shower for the first time in four days was considered pure bliss.  And speaking of joys, by the time we came home, power had been restored to our home.  That night, Andrea and I marveled and re-appreciated the grace of God in modern technologies.

Flood of 2011: Day 3

Friday, September 9, 2011

Still no power.  And our daily morning phone call to Kellie now reveals that our water is no longer safe for consumption unless we boil it first.  Breakfast is quiet and the morning is uneventful.

Andrea and I breakdown and realize that we need to go to the-store-that-shall-not-be-named to buy food if this no power or water thing continues to prolong itself.  It wasn't hard to tell what is in demand as you look on the shelves; water and ramen are completely out, and many of the dry foods are picked over.  We take for what seems a half-hour to find a battery-powered radio, and suddenly a call from Samantha Kubik changes everything.  The 201-Bridge has been opened.

For those unfamiliar with Binghamton geography and infrastructure it's important to know that there are only four bridges that connect Binghamton's southside to the rest of the city.  If any of those four bridges are deemed unsafe or inaccessible, traveling to the southside becomes at least a 40-mile and 2-hour drive in one direction.  The flood knocked out access to all four bridges, so with the reopening of 201, people can now get to almost any part of the city with (relative) ease.

Knowing that this is my best opportunity to reach and comfort my grandma and uncle, I get into the car and take the drive over to the southside.  And clearly, I wasn't the only one to have known about the bridge opening as it took nearly a full hour to finally reach the church.  Once we got there, it was comforting again to visually see my grandma and uncle safe and sound, especially in the halls of our own church.  We hadn't talked at all the previous day for a few reasons, but the most important of which boiled down to the fact I was the first to tell grandma that she should have left but didn't.  I (successfully, with God's help) resisted the urge to say "I told you so," and made extra efforts to show that I still love and care for them.

It was comforting to see that Good Shepherd had outdone itself again.  Three solid meals were being provided at the church for free, and the amount of volunteer giving and cooking was outstanding.  Unlike most of the other evacuee shelters,  Good Shepherd had very few people and offered more help than what would be given.  So, Andrea and I ended up having both lunch and dinner at the church, thanks to those who offered their time and service to cook.  We were also able to see friends who had been previously trapped in the southside come to the church as well.

As could be expected, the joy of the reunions did not last long.  I could see that my grandma and uncle were not only stressed and depressed, but they also weren't getting along well.  Their short tempers weren't helped when we found out that no one should clean the house until next Saturday when the adjuster would be able to come.  Grandma was also becoming increasingly frustrated with her short-term and long-term living situations.  Having been able to look at the house herself, she realized that many of her belongings were destroyed and the idea of rebuilding (a second time) seemed like a poor use of money, time and resources.

At the end of the night, Andrea and I were invited to a movie night with the Dreher's and their kinds, even though we were smelly.  We told them about our busy days, and the kids particularly liked the part about having ice cream for lunch.  But really, it was nice just to tune-out the flood for a few hours - even if the movie was centered around a drought.  The movie was Rango in case you were wondering, but I don't think I really recommend it.

Flood of 2011: Day 2

Thursday, September 8, 2011

No power.  A quick check of my cell phone told me it was 8:30am.  I walked outside anyway to see if there was anything interesting to take in visually.  The only thing I saw was a bunch of neighbors doing the same thing as if that is something everyone does when the power goes off in the middle of the night.  Without a NYSEG truck in sight, I assumed we would be without power for at least a little while.

My thoughts shift to my grandma; I call and am sickened by a busy signal.  I assume that this must mean the phone is off the hook, or more likely, underwater.  If they had to evacuate in the middle of the night, I start to wonder where would they have gone?  Since I was lost without the Internet, I call up Kellie who informs me of the water levels and all the initial damages and road closings.  I'm also told the river still had not crested.  (It wouldn't until nearly 6pm that evening at about 25.71 feet - a foot and a half more than early predictions.)  At this point, I call my pastor, Matt, because he lives about 2 blocks away from my grandma's house.  After catching him up on the situation, he agrees to get as close to the house as he can get to confirm that my grandma and uncle aren't still inside.  Between phone calls, my mother calls me and I have to break to her the news that grandma and uncle are unaccounted for, but that Matt is seeking her out as we speak.  What a horrible conversation to have.  As Matt approaches my grandma's house, which has four feet of water inside, neighbors inform him that both my grandma and uncle evacuated in the middle of the night; my mom calls me again to tell me that grandma called her via the Good Shepherd phone.  I call Matt to let him know that everyone is safe at the church, and everyone breathes a collective sign of relief.

After breakfast, Andrea and I take a walk around our neighborhood to assess the damage locally.  The one street where our friends, the Elliot's, live is very flooded to the point where it looks like the first floor could have been breached.  (We'll find out later the next day that it came 4 inches short.)  All the neighbors within a 10-block stretch, including Wilson Hospital, is without power.  But unlike the rest of us, Wilson has power generators and that is the only sound we hear when traffic isn't going by.  Just to the east of us, we can see that the entire Westover community is utterly destroyed and underwater as far as you could see.  And finally, just about 20-feet away from our home one of NYSEG's substations is completely submerged underwater.  The entire tour was predictably frustrating and truly unbelievable.

At this point in time, I was starting to feel fairly certain that power would not be restored soon.  Andrea and I started bottling water and filling up our bathtub with water.  With a bunch of food in the refrigerator and freezer, I made the extremely difficult decision that lunch would be composed entirely of ice cream.

Our downstairs neighbor told us that Cyber Cafe West was open, so that afternoon we used their Internet to read what was happening and and view some photos.  It was horrifying, especially what had happened to Owego, where Andrea's grandmother lives.

I've always advocated the gas stove over electric ones and days like this confirmed it.  Although the electric spark wouldn't ignite, it gave me an opportunity to try out an experiment that I have wanted to try.  Equipped with an oven mitt and safety glasses, I lit a piece of dry spaghetti on fire and poked it toward the gas burner.  Success!  Before long, we had a full dinner of leftovers all cooked on the stove top - a meal of chicken, mac and cheese, corn and potatoes.

The idea of spending a night in the dark seemed a bit depressing, but we managed to read the Bible and play a full game of Scrabble by candlelight.   Handy power-outage tip: If you want to double the brightness of your candlelight, put a mirror behind it!

Flood of 2011: Day 1

Wednesday, September 7, was the first day of school for many in the area and I was very nervous to meet all my students and finally get situated with my new job at Vestal.  I drove to the high school in the rain and it continued to pour throughout the entire day.  During lunch, many had already heard reports of schools closing early due to the flooding.  Although we never closed, the consistent interruptions throughout the day made for a very distracting first day of class.  By the time I tied up my loose ends, it was 4pm and the rain wasn't letting up.

Andrea arrived home short after I did.  We had dinner, and then made the decision that our Mission Group would have to cancel.  With all the flash flooding, it would be foolish to make everyone worry about traveling.  When 6pm rolled around, I was checking the updates and news intensely.  Over the course of a few hours, the reports changed from being comparable to worse than the floods that plagued the Southern Tier in 2006.  The flood five years ago was said to be a rare "500-year Flood."  My thoughts immediately turned to my grandmother and uncle who live together in the southside of Binghamton - on the banks of the Susquehanna River.  They were washed out the first time, and it seemed almost certain it would happen this time as well.  So I called them to see if they needed any help moving stuff out or evacuating to my house for the night.

At that particular time, bridge travel was still possible.  The worse case scenario, I thought, was that we'd have to spend a night or two at the church until the water receded.  Unfortunately, neither my uncle or grandma were convinced that the river would reach them again this year.  Despite the calls from both me and my mother, they were set on "waiting it out" on the basis that it couldn't possibly be worse than it was a year ago.

Giving up the idea that my prideful grandma and uncle would change their mind, I went to bed discouraged and frustrated.  As I was hoping that the reports would be turn out inaccurate, the pouring rain proclaimed a very different and disheartening reality.

The Death of Helga

Some of you reading this may not even know we had a truck.  We bought it cheap from our pastor because his family had outgrown the vehicle with six children and the condition of the truck had some features to be desired.  But after the sudden death of Carry back in October, we were very grateful for a second vehicle so I could continue teaching without interruption.  Andrea blessed Helga with her name for two reasons.  One was because it was so much larger than any of the automobiles we've owned previously.  The other is because "Helga" means "holy" in Norse, which makes sense when you remember we bought it from our pastor.

Helga wasn't used too much travel as we knew she was fragile.  However, she still served us well.  When it came to moving mattresses or transporting building materials for Mission Group, Helga was reliable and very appreciated   At greatest moment though was her faithfulness in bringing five of us to and from Taughannock Falls in Ithaca, New York.  The five of us packed in there and enjoyed what ended up being one the best days this summer.  A vehicle is remembered and valued on days like that.

However, Helga's fate was sealed last month when Andrea was driving home from Vestal when the SUV started making "strange noises and jerky accelerations."  When I told the story to the mechanic, he confirmed what I had already expected - a busted transmission.  Although he noted, that she was lucky to drive the vehicle so far without getting into an accident or having it fail completely.  We usually call it God's grace.

After sitting in our driveway for two more weeks, we finally made the decision that it was time for Helga to join Carry on the Big Highway in the Sky.  So even though her time was short, her legacy will not be forgotten nor her service in vain.